Smile, Puddin!
by dearjenna
Summary: (Mad Love fic, HarleyQuinnXJoker.) The story, as told by Harley, of how she met the Joker and came to love him.
1. Dr Harleen Quinzel, At Your Service!

**Author's Note: Here, I am. Inspired by all of my Batman emotions, and I just finished "Arkham City" not that long ago, so I have had some pitying feelings for Harley and some Mad Love emotions that must be met. With that said, I'm going to combine a lot of DCU, DCAU, DCnU and the _Arkham_ series of games, when it comes to origin stories/relationships. So that means, I'm drawing inspiration from most of what we grew up with here. Later on, I will admit, there will probably be some trigger warnings, but I will give you all full warning, should it happen. Until then, here is chapter one to my first Mad Love fic. Maybe one day I'll convince myself to do BatCat. I'm going to try and front load as much of this Mad Love story as I can, so that I can stagger out chapters and not have too much time in between posts.**

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Chapter One: Dr. Harleen Quinzel, At Your Service!

November 20, 2:30 p.m.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," I said with as much confidence as I could muster. I was just an intern back then. I was such a good student of psychiatry, but at that moment I was working my way up the ladder to become somebody. Arkham Asylum wasn't everyone's idea of a great first job, but I was willing to try my hand. After all, I'm a Quinzel! I can do anything. People I knew had their doubts. They think I'm too sweet, or that Arkham will be more difficult than I think, but I had studied these sorts of cases for forever. I was more than ready.

"Well, Dr. Quinzel," the guy said. I think his name was something like Jeremiah? I don't know, but he was definitely related to ol' Arkham. "We have a few tough patients you might be interested in."

"The more deranged, the better," I said. Another doctor from across the room looked at me over her shoulder and smirked. I wasn't sure why, but I let it go.

"Right," Dr. Arkham replied shortly. "Well, you've been recommended by a few strong names, so I'm required to have confidence you can hold your own. But be forewarned: These are more than just deranged men and women. Some of them are our supervillains, our terrorists. They will manipulate, lie and some doctors have been driven mad themselves."

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm sure I'll be fine. I've always been interested in the more _interesting_ cases. Why do they terrorize? Why do they kill? Some are so trapped in their own identities; you'd think it was more than just a mask." (I didn't know it then, but I apparently sounded just like every other young doctor that stepped into the asylum for the first time.)

I put a hand on my hip, waiting for Dr. Arkham to hand me my clipboard and security pass. He checked off a few more things on a list I really wanted to see, but I tried to be patient and not seem like a snoop.

"Here," he said, handing me everything I needed. "Security check is just ahead. Our guards will make sure you're secure and then allow you to enter our case-study room with your first patient."

"Thank you," I said and turned on my heels towards the door. I heard whispering coming from both doctors, but I had no time for that. It was time to start my first session.

As I made my way down the hall, I glanced at my clipboard; I saw a few different scans of files on hand. On Tuesdays I would see a man about his schizophrenia. On Thursdays, I would see a man who had an abusive father and had severe bipolar depression who was on constant suicide watch. The rest of the week was devoted to a man with no documented, legal name. "Strange," I said out loud, as I kept reading the file.

"Nothin's normal here, lady," I heard a rough voice say. I jumped a little and looked up—I had already made it to the end of the hall and the guards had been waiting on me to do their search. "Arms out," he commanded.

I had the clipboard in one outstretched hand, still trying to read as they completed their search. I saw aliases such as "Red Hood," "Jack White" and finally "Joker." _Oh,_ I thought. _That makes more sense._ Everyone knew Joker, no one knew where he came from or who he was, though. He was a complete mystery—more fun for me.

The two guards finished, looking at me like I was an alien, and let me into the next hall. The hall was full of side-by-side rooms with cameras and two-way mirrors for extra inspections. I wouldn't need that. At least, not yet.

All of Arkham Asylum was depressing to walk through. I wondered how anyone got better here. The walls were all steel, dark and cold, and what wasn't steel was stone. There was very little light, and the fluorescent lights were antagonizing. And I didn't have anything wrong with me! I couldn't imagine being a patient and having to live in such conditions.

.~.-.~.

2:45 p.m.

More than one psychiatrist had tried to help Joker. All had failed. I was determined to crack his code. I pulled out my recorder and began taping before Joker would arrive. "First session, November 20… 2:45 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel analyzes the evasive Joker," I said into the recorder.

I waited a few minutes, and the Joker was brought into the room. His head hung low with a dark smirk. I felt a shiver go down my spine; it was the first time I had been this close to a supervillain. His hands were bound, and he was tossed onto the chair across from me. Laughing ensued—it sounded maniacal, but I kept my cool. I couldn't let him spot a weakness before we began. According to his file, he loved to psychoanalyze people before they could him. I intended to change that. The guards nodded to me and then closed the door behind them after they exited the room. Their shadows could be seen over the slit of a window in the door. They were prepared for the worse—you could just feel the vibe coming off of them. They knew something bad could happen.

I looked at the Joker and examined his face, adjusting my glasses by the corner of their frames.

"Doctor," he said in a sly voice, and a small giggle escaped his lips.

"Joker," I said and nodded. "Dr. Quinzel, to you."

"My pleasure."

I grinned and began. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine," he said with a dramatic sigh.

"That doesn't sound fine."

"Oh, Quinny, I'm just having a rough time here," he said with a shrug. Even with his dramatic frowning, he seemed to still smile. Perhaps he was coping? Perhaps I could learn from that, somehow?

"In the asylum?" I asked. "Do you not get everything you need?"

"No," Joker said with another sigh. "Not _everything_." His frown turned into a smirk. I felt another shiver—it was time to change the subject.

"I guess we should start, huh?" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "What's wrong with me, Doc?"

His disfigurement was intriguing. I had never seen a man whose scars were more mysterious. They almost looked like burns or blisters, but then there was a hint of a blade's mark, there, too. What happened to this man?

"Why don't we start by you telling me what you think is wrong?"

"Oh, nice one, Doc!" Joker said with a laugh. "Depends on who you ask."

"That wasn't my question." I was quick.

Joker stopped and examined me for a moment, his eyes scanning my whole body and then locking eye-contact with me. I wanted to look away, but I remembered my notes. I couldn't. "Fine."

"What do you think is wrong with you?"

"Many things," he said darkly. "Where would you like to start?"

"Your childhood," I said.

"Figures. Well, I had an interesting one, Quinny!" he retorted with a chuckle. "A father who drank, a mother who hit and jobs I just couldn't keep. Then I realized I was taking life too seriously… Here I am." Joker perked up. He adjusted himself. "What does all that say about me?"

"Tell me more about your father."

"He was an alcoholic, I said, Doc!" Joker said loudly. "Weren't you listening?" He cocked his head to the side and frowned. "No, probably not."

I frowned. "Of course, I was listening, Mr. Joker. I want to know more."

A dark grin reappeared on his face and he licked his lips. "I was a boy with a dream, and then my father and mother beat it out of me." He began cackling like a hyena.

I put my clipboard down on the table and just watched him. "What's so funny?" I asked.

I never got an answer, he just kept laughing.

.~.-.~.

7:12 p.m.

The advantage to working in Arkham is you have access to all sorts of files on your patients. I took everything I could on Joker and made it back to my apartment, hoping to get some reading done. I had to find out what made him tick. I wanted to know about those marks on his face. I wanted to know so much more about him.

I pulled a quick dinner out of my fridge and threw it in the microwave. I started reading, flipping through the pages between each bite, the news turned on so I could catch any news about either the Joker or any other supervillains who were currently loose in Gotham.

"What's his motive?" I wondered out loud, taking a big bite of food.

.~.-.~.

1:34 a.m.

I ate the rest of my dinner hours ago. There was a rerun of Jack Ryder's annoying show all over my TV, and I had readjusted to lie upside down on my couch, still reading Joker's file. I couldn't believe it. He had pulled off some of the most daring heists in Gotham, all the while his identity completely masked—no records whatsoever.

I curled up on the couch, clutching the file and fell asleep. The last thing I heard was Jack Ryder say, "Hey, in a town like Gotham, sometimes crazy is all that works!"

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**Reviews, please! And check out my other stories.**


	2. Let's Put a Smile On That Face

**Author's Note: This chapter is in Joker's perspective. Have fun with that. ****By the way, if at any moment, you recognize quotes from the comics or games, I made them like little Easter eggs. If you spot 'em, you're cool. I do it at random, so there may not even be one in here... Or is there? Ooh, I feel just like the Riddler! Right! *clears throat* Back to the story. **Reviews always welcomed and wanted, of course.

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Chapter 2: Let's Put a Smile On that Face

November 21, 11:05 a.m.

I heard a rapping on my cell door. I just finished laughing at something some patient said four doors down. The poor sap was completely distraught, muttering over and over again about how important Thanksgiving was and how he wouldn't be there. Who knew why, but I knew that the way he tortured himself was hysterical. Ha ha ha.

"Dr. Quinzel is here to see you," a guard said, grabbing my arms roughly. I smirked. "Oh, really? My dearest doctor is here for little ol' me? I wasn't expecting her today!"

"She requested it," he said.

"Of course she did."

We walked—well, they dragged me through the hall—passed the previously mentioned patient. I groaned when I realized who it was. Etchings on his walls of November 25 were everywhere. He saw me and grimaced. Calendar Man. He was… A different breed. Not too many of us "supervillains" of Gotham bothered him. I appreciated his predictability—I could count down the days to his chaotic outbursts, literally. Ha ha ha.

.~.-.~.

11:10 a.m.

There she sat in her usual seat, flipping through some file—my file, I'm sure—as she smiled to herself. Her blonde hair was gracefully pulled back into a professional ponytail, but it was curled and fell down her back some. She was a lovely creature, but what was even more lovely about her was that I had her all figured out.

"Doc," I said to her in a short manner. I wanted to see her twitch, again, at my recognition of her. She did. She was all too fascinated in my diagnosis, I would make her break to find a cure.

"Mistah Joker," she replied. I smirked. Not very often I was referred to so politely. Her accent and pitchy voice reminded me of some sort of lower east side resident. I bet she grew up with an interesting childhood of her own.

"Want to talk about my father some more?" I asked as I was thrown back down into my usual chair. I grunted and sat upright some. I wanted to at least get comfortable for this ride.

The doors behind us to the room clicked closed. "Actually, I want to talk to you about anarchy," she said. I raised an eyebrow. What did this twit know about anarchy?

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise... And what would my _lovely_ doctor like to talk about anarchy for? Want to trade sides?" I chuckled.

"Not quite. I want to know why you love to see people suffer."

Psychoanalysis wasn't her best subject, but I imagine she did well enough in school if she were here—though, if you ask me, everyone here could use a bit more schooling. When I stressed the word "lovely" I saw a fair shade of pink hinted in her ears. I had her where I needed her.

"Who doesn't love a little anarchy?!" I said, howling like a baboon. Just the idea was enough to make me giddy like a little schoolgirl.

"Apparently everyone," she said. "You've made a lot of enemies in Gotham."

"So what else is new? Enemies run amuck in Gotham all the time! That's why I like to stir things up! Bring a little comedy to all the drab, depressing misery of Gotham. So much murder with tears. I like to think you can't have slaughter without some laughter!" I began laughing again, a good hearty laugh. I needed one to outshine my admittance that I found Calendar Man funny earlier. That bad taste still wouldn't leave my tongue.

I scanned her up and down as she looked down at her notes. Yes… A lovely girl.

She smiled. "So you just want to make people smile?" she asked. She was just so… So… Cute? Maybe. Hilarious? Absolutely. Ha ha ha.

"Have you not seen my work? Smiling is my favorite," I said, flashing her one of my biggest smiles. "Many of the people I meet may die, but they still have a smile on their face!"

"Don't you think you can make people smile without all the carnage?"

I leaned in. "Have you ever been to a carnival?" I asked, ignoring her question. She looked shocked.

"N-not since I was little," she said. The way she said "little" just made her seem even more endearingly naïve.

"Carnivals are great!" I said and laughed. "There are lions, tigers, and bears—oh my!" I laughed some more. "Oh! And don't forget about the _clowns_…" My voice grew dark, and my grin was as mischievous as I could manage without a mirror. _I really need a new mirror. I want to look at myself more often, _I thought.

She just watched me with an intrigue sparkling in those big eyes of hers.

"You like acrobats, right, Doctor?" I asked her, still looking dark. Ha ha ha.

She just stared. "Um, how did you—?"

"I know a lot of things, Doc!" I said, cackling some more. Oh, this was too much fun.

"I got into Gotham City University on a gymnastics scholarship," she said, somewhat proud, somewhat still curious as to how I knew that.

"Oh! Might you show me your moves some time?" I licked the corner of my mouth. She fidgeted.

"That wouldn't be appropriate," she said.

I sat back, disheartened. "Of course not," I said. "You're right, doctors have to keep their wits about them here." I chuckled.

She smiled.

.~.-.~.

4:30 p.m.

Word was that blonde doctor had wrangled herself a small desk within the doctors' offices. Impressed, I decided to send her a gift. _Oh, I wish I had Ajax when I needed him_, I thought with a sigh. He was a good henchman. But I had the next best thing! A man with an _official_ badge! Ha ha ha.

There is a guard by the name of Frank Boles—we go way back! I used to spit at him as he passed and we—well, I—just laughed and laughed and laughed. He was a _riot_! Word in Arkham was that he wasn't liked too much. I managed to change that—I liked him. Ha ha ha. Let's face it—I'm all anyone really needs.

"Oh, Boles!" I called out in a sing-songy voice. Boles turned to his guard pals and grunted as if he was disgusted. He walked over, gun poised at his shoulder like a real soldier, then those puppy-dog-eyes I love so much peered into my cell.

"I have a favor," I said darkly.

Boles smirked. "What is it, boss?" he whispered.

"Deliver this."

He took it without arousing suspicion and made it to the doctor's offices. Last I heard, one of the doctors was curious why he was there, but let it go when he said he was delivering a message from Dr. Arkham. You know, he's not as dumb as he looks… Sometimes.

The bait was set. I was ready to catch a bitch.


	3. Beauty and the Beast

**Author's Notes: At midnight it will be my best friend's (Rogue Requiem) birthday! In honor of her, I have posted the third chapter for you! I hope you enjoyed last chapter in Joker's perspective. I won't be switching perspectives too often, but I hope you liked it, either way. Now, back to our dearest Harley as the narrator. Also, yes, I took Thomas Schiff from Nolanverse's "Batman: The Dark Knight." I was more acquainted with that minor character than I would have been anyone else, so I figured that I might as well give a name to the patient I mentioned before. That's more than likely the only relation to the Nolanverse you'll see here, despite, I'm sure, some subconscious Joker take. Please leave reviews.**

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Chapter 3: Beauty and the Beast

November 22, 3:00 p.m.

I was sitting at my desk for the longest time, staring at a rose. Just a single rose. There was a note on the desk that read, "I miss you, Doc. Don't forget about me." I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but I did tell the other doctors I thought that Joker might be suicidal. What else was I supposed to believe? That this "raving lunatic," according to everyone at Arkham Asylum, was making a move on me? I wasn't so sure about that.

I had an appointment with another _character_ in the asylum today. Perhaps that's what he meant—that he didn't want me helping others. That still didn't sound right. I felt a weird churn in my stomach. Was this really happening to me? I caught myself grinning before I could even stop it. I pushed the rose into my desk drawer and gathered my things. I needed my full attention on this next guy.

"Thomas Schiff," I read out loud, softly of course. I read out loud a lot. Makes it easier to break down what I'm looking at.

"Ah, Schiff," a strange voice said behind me. My eyes widened and I turned around. "Oh!" I squeaked. "Sorry, Doctor. Didn't see you there."

"It's quite alright," Dr. Crane said. "So, Schiff is your next patient?"

"Yessir."

Dr. Jonathan Crane was an odd individual. He wasn't that bad to look at, but he wasn't tall enough for my taste, either. And he had a strange voice. Sometimes it was almost effeminate. That's fine for other women, I guess, but I like that raw, rough voice from a man. Makes me feel more like a woman.

"Hm. I hope you have fun with that one. I heard you were also assigned the Joker?"

"I had good recommendations before getting accepted here," I said proudly with a smile.

He smiled back. "I'm sure," he said, reassuringly. "Not many are allowed to talk to beasts like him."

"I don't think he's a beast," I said unexpectedly.

A grin appeared on his face. "Watch yourself, Dr. Quinzel," he warned. "That Joker man knows fear, and fear is a powerful tool." His grin was so dark. Kind of like the grins I've seen in Arkham before. But I let it go. _He's probably just been working here too long_, I thought. I nodded my head politely and headed towards the guards.

One of them winked at me. I looked at his name tag: Boles. I smiled a half-hearted smile, confused. He just chuckled as they did their usual search.

"What's so funny, man?" the other guard asked.

"Nothin'," he said. "I still can't believe this broad was stuck with the Joker."

"Broad?" I repeated. I dropped my arms and put them on my hips. "I'm not a _broad_."

"Sorry!" Boles said with his hands up defensively. "Lady!" He was mocking me, but I didn't care. The other guard laughed as I walked away.

"Yo, man, you almost got jacked by that doctor."

"Shut up!" Boles replied.

_Dumb ass,_ I thought.

.~.-.~.

3:12 p.m.

"November 22, 3:12 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel analyzes patient Tom… I mean, Thomas Schiff."

I waited for nearly 10 minutes after I made that recording—nothing. I knocked on the door to the case-study room I was in, and one of the guards opened up. "Where's my patient, Schiff?" I asked. He just shrugged.

_Useless._

"Should I just keep waiting, or should I go look?" I asked.

"Uh… This doesn't happen often," he replied.

"Okay…" I scratched my head then gathered my things. "You're gonna' help me find him!" I declared. He looked confused.

We walked over to the hall that supposedly had Thomas Schiff's cell. But I wasn't trusting of this guard too much. He didn't seem like he knew what was going on at all.

We almost made it to his cell when we heard loud, alarming laughter coming from his cell. More guards than I even knew were in the area started rushing towards the cell. The guard with me took up post with the others, and I stood back, and peered in where I could.

A rat-like looking man, with almost no hair, who looked absolutely famished was snarling like a rabid beast. Two guards—one holding him by each end—pulled him out of Schiff's cell. The laughter coming from the cell was softer now, and soon it stopped. "Shit," one guard said. "How'd he even get out?"

"Wait…" I said approaching them. "That wasn't Schiff, was it?" I pointed to the man now being carried away.

"Who, that?!" the guard said, surprised, while the others were busy cleaning up some mess. I later learned he went by the name Cash. "Nah that was Stirk. Cornelius Stirk. He's… He's one of our scarier inmates, if I'm being honest."

_They call the patients inmates?_

"You, uh, may want to leave now," Cash said. "It's pretty bad."

"So that's Schiff," I said softly, as I peered into the cell. There laid a slender, pale man with a frightening smile on his face, his chest ripped open almost to his lungs—the cuts were deep. I couldn't even believe it, but I couldn't take my eyes off of it. He was torn like a ragdoll at the seam.

"Get the chick out of here, Cash!" one guard scolded.

"Watch who you're talking to!" Cash shouted back. "C'mere, ma'am." I followed Cash back to the doctors' offices. "I guess you're one less patient now," he said.

"I guess so," I said. "You were pretty quick to react."

"Whenever we hear Schiff laugh, we know something's up—well, I guess _knew_."

"Is it really that easy to get out of these cells?" I asked in a low voice.

He looked shocked. "It's happened before, but it's tough. People like Schiff won't ever get out. Monsters like Stirk have their ways of getting out… They're still building a freak like him a proper cell."

"Well, thanks for getting me out of there safely," I said.

Cash shook my hand and walked away. "Oh!" he said, snapping his fingers. "Make sure if you ever see Stirk, not to look him in the eye. He's got some kind of power over people... Actually, it's best to just not even go near him, if I'm being honest."

"Thanks," I said. I wanted to know what that power was that he mentioned, but I didn't think Cash wanted to talk about it. I made my way into the office to see Dr. Crane sitting at his desk smiling.

"Dr. Crane," I said.

He looked up. "Oh, yes, Dr. Quinzel," he said. "How are you?"

"A little shocked," I said. "I just lost my patient."

"What happened?" he asked, shocked. "Did you ask them too many questions about their scary childhoods?" He smirked, amused.

"Stirk got him," I said.

Dr. Crane dropped his pen. "He—he's... Uh... Oh God... He's out?" he was practically choking from the shock of it all.

"Yeah, well, two guards have him. I figure they've got it under control."

"Right, I'm sure," Dr. Crane said. "Good. Good... So Stirk isn't in his cell then?"

"Not uh... No that I know uh—you're acting funny, are you okay?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, doll." Dr. Crane returned to his papers, scribbling, and I just walked to the back room where my desk was.

I sat down, bemused I couldn't even properly talk to a patient before he was killed. I picked up his file and skimmed through it. He had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia. _That explains the laughing_, I thought. Then I remembered the rose.

I pulled open my desk drawer, and saw piles of playing cards buried under the rose. They definitely weren't there before. I looked at some of the cards and quickly realized they were nothing but jokers and queens of hearts. I shook my head—I had no idea how Mr. Joker managed to pull these sorts of gags while locked up in an asylum. I would have to remember to report him later. Who knew what someone worse could pull off if all it took was calling in favors. I picked up one of the queen of hearts and smirked. I examined the rose again; my thoughts brought back to the Joker. I wondered what he was doing at that moment. I decided to find out.

Dr. Crane had already vanished for the day when I came out of my office. Perhaps he decided to finally go home, after all, I figured.

.~.-.~.

4:00 p.m.

Joker was in his cell, sitting up against the wall, humming some song and smiling. His eyes were closed, and his head was hanging low. He looked comfortable.

"Someone looks happy," I said.

Joker lifted his head to me slowly and smiled bigger. "Hello," he said in a dark voice.

"My patient, uh… My appointment was cancelled for the day," I said.

"Oh, doll face, I know already what happened," he said, cackling as he usually does when he's highly amused. My stomach churned.

"I saw it. It wasn't funny."

"But it was fascinating, wasn't it?"

"A little…" I don't know why I admitted that to him, but I did.

He got up from his spot on the bed and made it over to his cell door to meet me in the eyes. "See, murder can be fun," he said with a grin.

"No, it's just an interesting consequence of actions taken by criminally insane people. Just interesting. That's it."

"Do you think I'm insane?"

"No," I said plainly. "I don't."

"At least you believe in me," Joker said with a smile. I smiled back and then stepped back from the cell, a little confused. _Maybe I wasn't wrong about the rose. Maybe he did mean something by it, after all._


	4. Fearsome Inspiration

**A/N: I hope you're enjoying my remixed, headcanon take on what happens in Arkham when Harleen meets Joker. I also plan on extending this story for quite a few chapters beyond her transformation into Harley Quinn. I already have the ending planned out, thankfully, so I know where this is going, and I hope you stick around. Reviews always welcome. The ones I have gotten have been encouraging. Thanks!**

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Chapter 4: Fearsome Inspiration

November 23, 7:30 a.m.

I woke up and grabbed my usual bag of coffee, but through sleepy eyes I managed to drop it all on the floor before I made it to my coffee maker. I said a few words that mother would have slapped me in the mouth for, then, started to sweep it all up. That's when I heard my phone go off. "Why am I getting calls this early?" I mumbled as I made my way over.

"Hello?" I said rudely.

"Oh… Er… Sorry, Dr. Quinzel… Did I wake you?" It was Dr. Arkham. Ha. I had managed to actually startle _him_.

"Sorry, Dr. Arkham," I said quickly. "I'm just having to clean the kitchen after I had a clumsy mo—you know, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. How may I help you?"

"We need all of the doctors to come to Arkham Asylum, immediately," he said. "We need to have an emergency meeting."

"Emergency meeting? Is everything okay?"

"Of course not," he said plainly.

"I'll be there A-S-A-P," I said.

.~.-.~.

9:00 a.m.

I made my way into Arkham Asylum and I saw Dr. Arkham, tapping his foot, staring me up and down as I rushed in.

"Sorry, the ferry was held up!" I said, wiping my forehead and stepping inside.

"You're lucky," he said. "You were almost late."

I nodded, silently, and let him lead me to a conference room. The other doctors were sitting around a table, looking disturbed. Dr. Arkham made his way to the front of the room.

"I had to bring you all here because we had to detain someone," he said sternly. He sighed deeply, and I cocked my head to the side, confused. "If you notice, someone is missing among us."

We all looked around, and then it donned on me, but I wouldn't say it.

"It appears Dr. Jonathan Crane has been doing some of his own psychological research without the approval of myself and the rest of Arkham's administrative staff." A few people looked confused. "He has been tormenting several residents of the asylum, and unfortunately he managed to get his hands on Cornelius Stirk."

I felt the doctor nearest me shiver so hard she looked like she might have a seizure. I winced a little, remembering what I saw that man do. Someone else managed to torment him?

"We found Crane donning some sort of mask and gassing Stirk. The patient snapped after Dr. Crane's experiments. When the guards broke into the room, Stirk fled and bolted for the nearest guards at the back of Arkham, cutting one to pieces before he was detained and thrown into a holding cell not even the most psychic _elephant_ could get out of."

_That must be the power that Cash mentioned yesterday,_ I thought.

"Where is Dr. Crane now?" I asked.

"He is being relocated to his own cell now," he said, dismayed. "We just had the warden and a few administrative doctors examine him before this meeting."

_Well, isn't that ironic. The psychologist now a patient in his own asylum…_

We all walked out of the room, some confused, some scared. I just wanted to know more. Then we saw him: Dr. Crane was strapped to a hospital bed by six strong belts all the way down his body. He was restrained by a jacket and sheet holding him together. One nurse was pushing him down the hall while two guards followed. One guy was holding Dr. Crane's mask, made of burlap and some sort of sealant, I guess to keep out whatever gas he was using on Stirk. The other guard was following, but was shaking violently. His eyes were darting everywhere.

The doctors were all frozen in time as we watched Dr. Crane get wheeled away—even me. This used to be a man of propriety and a name that reeked of infamy and money in the psychology world. And now here he is, strapped to a bed like just another lunatic. He was talking to himself and licking his lips obsessively. The tick was annoying me, actually. There was no way I was getting stuck with that diagnosis. Someone else could deal with him.

"Dr. Crane…" Dr. Arkham said solemnly.

"THAT'S SCARECROW!" Dr. Crane screeched. We all winced at the noise. "I am the Master of Fear."

.~.-.~.

1:03 p.m.

Most of the doctors were unwilling to actually tend to their patients. But not me. I knew I had to see Joker. He needed me, and I took an oath to always take care of my patients.

"1:05 p.m. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Third session analyzing the Joker." I put the recorder on the table. The Joker showed up shortly after, and I sighed.

"Oh, you're happy to see me?" he asked.

"Always," I said, without thinking. He smirked at me and I felt myself blush. "We should get started soon," I said.

He sat down compliantly, unlike the other times he was thrown or forced into the chair by the guards. "As you wish," he said.

"The last time I spoke with you—"

"Outside of my cell, you mean?"

"In our last session," I corrected him.

"I enjoyed your little visit."

"Y—you did?" What was this? Was he making another move on me? I was beginning to like it. I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. He had a charm about him.

"Oh yes," he said and started laughing.

I smiled. I liked his laugh. "Well, anyway," I said. "I do want to pick up where we left off."

"Oh, so do I," Joker said with a dark tone.

I locked eyes with him, trying to study him. I couldn't. But he read me like a book.

"I never did finish telling you about the carnival, did I?"

"No," I said. I was used to strange way of talking by now, I didn't even think about his segue this time.

"Well, I can't disappoint my audience," he said with a smirk.

Joker adjusted himself in the chair. I wished they gave these patients something more comfortable. If they just made the asylum more home-y, I bet many of the true loonies would have felt more at ease. It can't be easy being out of your mind and having nothing to stimulate you but a closet-sized room with a hard mattress to pass for a bed. It's no wonder the supervillains were always breaking out, or at least trying.

"I used to go to the carnival all the time as a boy," Joker said.

I smiled, wondering what he must have been like. Then I noticed his scars again. Probably not a time in his life he looks on too fondly.

"That sounds like fun. Did you go with your father?"

"My ol' man was the only one that would go with me," he said. "He loved the clowns!" He began cackling.

"Is that why you're the Clown Prince of Crime?"

"I'm the Clown Prince of Crime, because I _am_ the face of crime." There was something about his confidence that struck me. "Do you want to know a secret, Doc?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered eagerly, leaning into him.

Joker leaned over the table, looking at me fondly. "You're my favorite doctor." He winked at me and I blushed again. I was always easily charmed, I guess. But Joker had a way about him.

.~.-.~.

2:50 p.m.

Almost two hours later, and I was still in that room with Joker. He had started telling me all about his abusive father again, saying how the guy used to get really drunk and use him as a punching bag. It was starting to make sense now. A man, as charming as him, wasn't insane, he was just misunderstood and misguided. He was desperate for a laugh because he didn't get enough as a kid. And violence was all he knew.

I looked at my watch and couldn't believe how long our session had lasted. I guess it was fine, though, seeing as how the rest of the doctors were practically too terrified to even work.

"I have another secret," Joker said with a soft smile.

"What's that?" I asked, still stunned by his sad story.

"I want to get out of here."

"How are you gonna' do that?" I asked. I probably should have asked, as a doctor, why he would want to, or alert someone, but then I guess that wasn't our way… Ever.

"With your help, love," he said. I smiled.

"What's the plan?"

I didn't want Joker in there any more than any other sane patient. Joker was sane. I had already made my diagnosis. He was perfectly sane, absolutely intelligent, but an unfortunately evil masochist. That last bit I knew for sure, above all else. But what great anarchist wasn't, in their own way?

Joker said that he knew of someone who would be a good diversion, and that he knew I could help distract the doctors, as well. Apparently he had recently become inspired.

"I'll help you any way I can, Mistah Joker."


	5. One Day to Thanksgiving

**A/N: It's a new week, and because I got a job today, I'm posting this new chapter jubilantly. Have fun reading.**

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Chapter 5: One Day to Thanksgiving

November 24, noon

"It is more apparent now than ever, with our newest patient, Scarecrow, that we begin serious funding for a cure," Dr. Sarah Cassidy said. Some of the doctors refused to call Scarecrow "Dr. Crane" anymore. It was like they had an aversion to the name or something.

"Dr. Cassidy, how do you propose we find a cure for _insanity_?" another doctor asked, almost spitefully.

Dr. Cassidy looked to the doctor and then to Dr. Arkham. "We will have a cure," Dr. Arkham said. "There has to be a way. And if there is a way, we at Arkham are more than qualified enough to find it. All I have to do is talk to Sharp."

_More than qualified, my ass, _I thought. I saw the conditions of the asylum. There's no way that they knew what they were doing.

Heck, I didn't even know why I was there anymore. Well, I did know one reason: to help Joker. In the beginning, I set out to help Joker because it was an assignment—an obligation. But when I met him, I realized he needed a cure. There are only two things that can cure a man who ain't ill: One is to get him out of the place that could ruin him, and, two, give him somebody who will listen. I was willing to be that person for him.

I was down to just one patient after my other patient decided to off himself in the middle of the night. Apparently the guards weren't at their best when the heart rate monitor went off on his neck brace. Figures.

I had to file all the paperwork, despite the fact that I hadn't even had one session with him, yet. I was beginning to hate this place. It's as if all that I took an oath for—to help and protect my patients—was just a formality to get my license. This place was full of drones shuffling papers and sticking sick people with needles, meanwhile their colleagues are falling to the same illnesses that plague their patients. It was so… counterproductive.

But that was all fine. The Joker had a plan, and he was including me in on it. I would do anything to get him out of this Hell hole. Any regular prison would be better than this place. If I had to, I would send him to Blackgate. But if I had a choice, I'd just set him free.

.~.-.~.

7:25 p.m.

I walked passed several cells, and I heard a few hoots and hollers in my direction. Many of those men were absolutely disgusting. The things they would do if I let them… I pushed away the thought and kept walking. I was headed for Joker's cell. I needed to talk to him before tomorrow. I heard someone moaning a few doors away as I reached Joker's door.

"Someone else ain't getting hurt, are they?" I whispered to Joker.

Joker laughed really hard. "No, sweets," he said. "That's just the Calendar Man." He laughed again. "He's got a _thing_ for holidays, and he's mad he'll be locked up for Thanksgiving."

"Oh," I said, and craned my neck to see him sitting on his bed mumbling about something, a faux calendar etched into the wall above him.

"Harleen Quinzel… Harleen Quinzel…" Joker said, repeating my name over and over again. I turned back to him and watched him with a smirk, walking closer to the cell door.

"Harley Quinn… Harlequin!" He said, laughing hysterically.

"Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before," I said. I was smiling, though.

"You know, you'd make a lovely clown."

Something in me clicked when he said that—like I had been waiting for those words my whole life.

"Maybe I would," I said.

What Joker probably didn't expect was he didn't only break me, but he created a monster that night. He was my Frankenstein. Those words triggered something deep within me. I suddenly craved his approval. The doctor wanted the patient's approval! Can you believe it? But I wasn't like that Dr. Crane who fell to some mania. No, I was very different. I was with Joker—an intelligent and sane man who just loved a little chaos. I wasn't a victim, I was an accomplice. The idea felt a little exhilarating.

It all started to make sense, in that moment, why people were so crazy and corrupt in Gotham. It was survival of the fittest in the city, not even the cops were all that put-together. And with some caped loon like the Batman always around, you either had to one-up him, or you had to get out. Not many people got out of Gotham for long, though. In school we used to call it a black hole. We weren't far-off. Joker wasn't like that, though. He seemed to truly enjoy being wherever he was, most of all in Gotham, but he always knew how to keep himself entertained.

Joker threw himself at his cell door, latching his hands around the bars. My hands were under his. I hadn't expected him to move. I stood still; he wasn't even paying attention to me, anyway. His eyes were glued to the hall. "Oh, I bet so many people are going to have so much fun eating together, chatting together, all congregating to one area together! Thanksgiving is a wonderful time of year! Don't you think?!" He was shouting loudly and dramatically enough for Calendar Man to hear.

I heard a louder moan coming from the man's cell.

"The food, the merriment! All those vulnerable people giving thanks! Even in Gotham..."

"Thirty days hath September, April, June, and NOVEMBER!" Calendar Man shouted. We both heard something break loudly against his wall, and I jumped.

Boles came running up to the cell. "Chill out in there!"

"YOU CHILL OUT!" Calendar Man screamed.

Boles pulled out a stun gun and jabbed it into Calendar Man's side through his cell door's bars.

The Joker looked at me and realized his hands were grasping mine on the bars. I blushed. "Mistah J, you got my hands," I said.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I've got more than that..." He said with a chuckle and looked at me fondly. My heart melted.

Boles apparently saw us and just snickered before walking back. I didn't care.

"We've got a big day ahead of us, toots," Joker said. "Best get some rest now." I wondered what it must be like to sleep next to a man like that.

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**A/N: As always, please review.**


	6. A Turkey with All Its Trimmings

**A/N: Here is the chapter I'm sure you've all been waiting for! It's only downhill from here... **

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Chapter 6: A Turkey with All Its Trimmings

November 25, 8:00 a.m.

I hadn't been this excited before. It was Thanksgiving Day, and for us, it was the big day. I was more ready for this than I had been anything else in my life_—_especially this early in the morning. I had been plotting most of the night; it was a wonder I got any sleep at all! Mr. J had devised the perfect plan for his escape—I admired his determination. As promised, I got into Arkham early. I got a few weird stares from a nurse or two who didn't expect to see me so soon, but I just politely smiled and skipped down the hall, humming. I couldn't wait to show my puddin' what I had devised.

He was in his bed, still sleeping. I was a little annoyed, so I rattled the bars on his door and he shook awake, looking irritated. "Wakey, wakey, Puddin'!" I said.

"Toots, there are kinder ways to wake a man."

"Sorry, Mistah J."

He didn't even flinch at the nicknames I had created for him. He must have expected as much. He was so smart.

"Is everything set?" he asked in his usually sly way that he had with me.

"I just need you!" I hadn't meant for it to sound as inviting as he took it, but I wouldn't have exactly said "no," either.

He laughed. "Someone's _eager_."

"More than you know..." I looked around the hall and didn't see anyone. One by one, I started unbuttoning my doctor's jacket, locking seductive eyes with his. I wasn't exactly new. His eyes grew wide, then a devilish grin appeared. I dropped the coat and revealed my latest look.

The outfit was really costume-y. The colors were simple: black and red, coloring divided down the middle with some diamonds to match my spade. I was a regular harlequin. His Harley Quinn. I pulled out my hat and mask from the jacket pocket. I could have passed for a female jester. Joker laughed.

I put my hands on my waist and cocked my hip. "What's so funny?"

"This is perfect!" He laughed some more. "I love it." The way he said it was so warm.

Some guards could be heard in the distance. "I'm ready to see those moves now," he said with a wink.

When the guards were close enough and spotted this new clown in their presence, they freaked. I ran towards them, and took a deep breath. I might have had a scholarship for gymnastics, but I had put practice on the back-burner to working in this field. But it was time to trade in that doctorate for a trapeze. One guard positioned his gun at me, while the other stood frozen, confused. No one had heard of Harley Quinn yet—I was Joker's little secret. Before the first guard could get a shot in, the second took a backhand spring to the face. I could hear Joker laughing in the background. I quickly clotheslined the other and reached for their guns.

"Don't shoot yet, sweets!" Mr. J said.

I brought the other gun to him and let him out of his cell with a master key card I found on one of the guards. "Good," Joker said deeply, stroking the rifle now in his hands. The way he said it gave me a chill down my spine.

"Give me that key," he commanded.

I did as I was told, and he quickly walked over to Calendar Man's cell. "I don't like you, but I like your style," Joker said to the other, laughing. He didn't like his style that much, I'm sure, but he was good at buttering people up. The cell door swung open and Calendar Man just stared at him. "Ready to make November 25 a day to remember?" Joker said and smiled darkly.

Calendar Man slowly stepped out of his cell, as if expecting a trap. "Time to bring some holiday cheer," the man growled. I stepped out of the way as quickly as I could.

"Why is he so angry?" I asked.

"He's used to never getting his way, and if he does, it's not worth it, in my opinion." Joker wanted to bring Calendar Man to a new point in absurdity. "C'mere, toots!" Mr. J said, grabbing me around the waist. "He's our diversion," he whispered in my ear. He gave a chuckle, and I giggled in return.

.~.-.~.

10:00 a.m.

Right on schedule, according to Mr. J's watch, Calendar Man had stirred up a bit of trouble for himself. We could hear henchmen fighting Calendar Man, trying to bring him down to the ground. I had to admit, he was putting up a good fight. Several patients were cheering on either side. They just loved a good fight. But we were smarter than all of them combined-we took to hiding in a nearby vent to avoid security cameras and any other commotion.

Joker and I had setup bombs on the east side of Arkham Asylum, while Boles distracting the other guards. I finally got all those weird stares he was giving me, at that point. Apparently, he and Mr. J were pretty chummy.

Just when we thought things were slowing down between the few guards who took on Calendar Man, Mr. J looked into my eyes and brought the trigger up to eye-level. "Together," he said. I placed my smaller hands over his rough, bigger ones and closed me eyes. We pulled the trigger on the switch, and a large boom left an indescribable ringing in my ears. I wasn't used to this much noise. I placed my hands over my ears and Joker laughed maniacally, clutching his sides.

The remaining guards, and a few doctors, ran straight for the exits that had blown, and the alarms sounded. Mr. J grabbed my hand and pulled me through the corridor, sprinting, passed the now detained Calendar Man and out the front doors. It was that easy! I was almost mad about it. Boles came running shortly after us. Joker let go of my hand, and I had to admit I wish he hadn't.

"They called for the Batman and Gordon," he said, taking deep breaths.

"Fine, fine..." Joker waved him along. "Keep 'em after Calendar Man—and not me—and we'll be fine."

Boles nodded, smirked to me, and then headed back towards the doors.

"Ready to see a bat get its wings clipped?" Mr. J asked me.

"Sure am!" I said with a big smile.

I followed Joker to the ferry's docking station, and Joker put his rifle to the head of the man who helped passengers on and off. "You won't breathe if I decide it isn't right," Mr. J said with a laugh. The guy reached for his stun gun, and without even hesitating, Mr. J blew his head off. I flinched. This was more action than I ever expected to see up close—and that included all the craziness with my no-good father, too.

We hid behind a nearby bush when we saw the police's special ferry pull up to the docking station. They did always get their panties in a wad when they found out anything in Arkham happened.

Out stepped some cops, Commissioner Gordon and Bats. Then I saw Cash running up to greet them with the news. Dr. Arkham was following behind slowly.

I stopped paying attention to the conversation. I imagined it went along the lines of, "People out, we're scared. Calendar Man is nuts." I didn't care. I was just noticing how close Mr. J was to me, and how out of sight we were.

"Puddin'..." I said. Joker just looked at me. "When we get out of this, what's next?"

He pinched my cheek. "Anarchy, my darling."

I gave a small smile.

Eventually Commissioner Gordon made it inside with everyone but Batman. He was too busy investigating the area.

"Three..." Joker started counting down. "Two... ONE!"

He shouted the last loud enough for Bats to hear, but Mr. J had already hit another button, setting off a few land mines right where Batman stood. I couldn't believe it. Boles must have helped him. Batman was definitely out for the count, and Joker was too busy laughing to pay attention to where he was going. I had to guide him back to the docking station.

We hijacked the ferry still sitting at the dock and Joker managed to steer it towards land. Once we were in the streets again, roaming, he dropped me off a few blocks from my home, laughing. "Thanks for everything, Harley!"

I frowned. "You say that like it's a goodbye, Mistah J."

"Oh... Look at that _frown_! Don't make me get my ol' Venom on you..."

It wasn't until I got back home that I realized I never got an answer.

That's how I spent my Thanksgiving morning, and soon enough I was all alone.

.~.-.~.

The next day all I could do was think about Mr. J. The way he spoke, the way his hand fit into mine... The way we worked so well together to execute that escape plan. It was meant to be. But I hadn't heard so much as a word since yesterday.

When the Bats came-to, he apparently went sniffing around Calendar Man's cell. That's when they noticed my Joker was gone. Ever since then, the GCPD have put a warrant out for his arrest. As far as I know, they think he just seized a good opportunity. They have no idea that Joker was behind even Calendar Man's escape. I wasn't so sure what to do with myself, and I was moping too much in my apartment, so I decided to go out a bit. The rose that my Puddin' had given me was still preserved in a vase by my bed, and I was spending too much time staring at it, as if it were going to change.

After convincing myself to go out on the town, I ended up buying a ticket to the circus. I wanted to see the acrobats and clowns in action. I wanted to see what made Mr. J smile so much as a child. The whole time I was there in the stands, my mind kept wandering. I was fantasizing about what it must be like to be in the circus, to run away with one. Anything had to be better than this... This misery. I told myself that I had been fine before Joker. Perhaps I was just fooling myself back then, though. Maybe I was always this alone, but I needed him to realize that. I looked back at the circus ring and saw a couple of hyenas come out. That's when I made a weird and impulsive decision: I needed a hyena. A good, sturdy pet. Something to fill the void. Maybe it was the way they showed their teeth—like a sneer or a devilish grin. Or perhaps it was their laugh. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to have one.

I watched the rest of the trapeze artists and left the moment the clowns arrived. I just couldn't handle the sore reminder of a man I wasn't sure if I'd see again.

That night I returned to my home and cleaned up and became Harley Quinn again. But this time, not for Mr. J, but myself. He may have had a large hand in creating this new identity for me, but I was determined—for my own peace of mind—that whoever Harley Quinn became, I would have complete control of her. At least, I would keep telling myself that for tonight. The circus performers were all out of their tents, in the middle of the night, with small fire pits and conversation. Seemed home-y.

I straightened my hat and headed towards the clowns' tents. I had to blend in tonight. There was no need to attack anyone. But I _was_ impressed by how much ass I kicked yesterday!

I found a few closer to where I stood and approached them. They were all huddled over a fire pit built from an old tin trash can and some wood. "Where are the animals?" I asked one clown. "I have a treat for 'em!"

"We ain't s'posed to feed no animals!" the clown replied in a strong Brooklyn accent.

I sighed. "Neva' mind, then. Where are they?"

He pointed me in the right direction, confused. "Don't feed 'em!" he warned. I made my way over to quite a few cages with hyenas, and one bin full of a litter of baby hyenas. I smiled, until I felt something's hot breath hit the back of my legs. I turned around to see a mother hyena looking like she was ready to pounce me. I backed away slowly, hands up. I was terrified. This hyena could tear me apart if she wanted!

She got in the bin and started nursing the cubs right away. All except for one little guy—the runt. I frowned when I saw him. Apparently he had been ignored for a few days. He looked hungry, but he kept to himself in the corner of the bin. I kept an eye on the mother while I reached in and took the runt out of the bin. I could hear little baby growls escape his lips. He was so cute, and he needed someone to take care of him.

Without arousing too much suspicion, I managed to escape camp with the tyke wrapped in my arms to keep him safe and warm.

When I returned home, I warmed up some milk for my new pet and fed it to him gently through a funnel. It was all I had in my apartment. He seemed gracious, though. I was sitting up on my bed, back against the headboard, cradling this tiny hyena in my arms. He was so soft. He drank and drank until his heart was content. He was just the cutest. I heard him burp, and he quickly passed out in my lap. I'd need to find him some good food tomorrow morning. I didn't even know what hyenas ate. Couldn't be that hard to look up, though.

"There, there, Jester," I said. "Mamma's got you." The rose next to me shifted a little as the water in the vase settled; it looked as beautiful as ever. I smiled.

I moved the cub to the pillow next to me. After getting dressed into my pajamas, I laid down in the bed next to Jester and kissed his head. I felt a cold little nose snuggle up to the crook of my neck before I fell asleep. I was finally content.

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**Review, please!**


	7. Another Boom

**A/N: My longest chapter yet! I really hope you like this one. Please leave reviews.**

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Chapter 7: Another Boom

It had been about a week since the escape, and I hadn't heard from Joker, still. Police were everywhere, and I knew Commissioner Gordon was on my tail. Apparently the guards started describing the female clown they saw that day in the asylum, and a few nurses put it together that it was me. Since then, I had moved to another apartment on the other side of Gotham. I hadn't stopped thinking about my Mr. J. But Jester was with me and I had even managed to keep the rose mainly intact, though after a week, a petal had fallen from the stem and I was too upset about it to throw it away. Instead, it was left on my new nightstand to wither and remain, like the few pieces left of my heart. Perhaps I shouldn't have had such high hopes for that bastard, but he was such a charmer. I couldn't help myself.

I was refusing to let myself keep up this miserable business, though. Tonight was going to be a good night, and I was going to make Joker see just how much he could miss me. I put on a short black dress that stopped just below my ass and my deepest shade of red lipstick. It looked like the same dark shade of blood that oozes from a bruised sore—it was actually a beautiful shade of red. My hair was done in soft curls that fell down my shoulders. I was ready to see Joker—word on the street was that he would be at the Iceberg Lounge, and I was ready to make my entrance. He'd never seen me like this.

Like any night that Cobblepot promises a show, he delivers. But word hadn't escaped him about the Joker, and he had guards posted everywhere with rifles bigger than me. Somewhere not too far away, Mr. J was coming with a few good men—he always had a way of bringing people together.

Mr. J entered the lounge with a top hat to match his signature suit and a cane as black as coal. I think he was making fun of the Penguin that night, but who really knows? Maybe he just wanted to look dapper. He didn't have to try hard.

Joker looked so put together compared to the last time I saw him in Arkham, but as soon as he stepped through the door, one of Penguin's guards pulled him under the steps a few feet from the door, and I saw Cobblepot threatening him, waving a fat finger in his face while Mr. J just laughed.

"Be on your best behavior tonight!" Cobblepot scolded. I was sort of surprised he didn't just turn Joker in, but he probably had his own reasons to keep on duty cops out of his party.

"Oh, pish-posh! I've got a date tonight, Penguin. A date with _destiny_." He tipped Penguin's hat down over his eyes, elbowed the guard and skipped back to the entry way. That's when he saw me.

I smiled at him and he just stopped and stared, somewhat confused. "Harley?"

"Hey, Mistah J," I said coyly. I walked up to him, swaying my hips.

"Well, isn't this a surprise," he said darkly.

"How have you been?"

"Fine... I can say the same for you."

I blushed.

Joker started circling me. I could feel his eyes all over me. He stopped back in front of me and looked at my face. His eyes scanned my lips. Ours were a perfect match. I couldn't tell if he was admiring me, but I could only hope. Joker reached for his back pocket and stuck the end of the barrel of his pistol to my lips. I didn't move. I knew him; this was him. But this was me! He wouldn't hurt me.

He led me into a corridor by my wrist and threw me roughly against a door.

"Did you follow me?" he asked darkly. The pistol was now pushing into the hollow of my throat.

"Maybe," I said with a shrug and a smirk.

"Why?"

"I wanted to see you, and this seemed like a nice night out. Everyone dressed up! I wanted to get out of my apartment. Raising my new pet has been a bit of a handful, and I've been in hiding like you."

"I don't hide from anyone."

"Is that why I haven't heard from you for about a week?"

He laughed. "My dear, you're playing with fire."

"Maybe I like fire." My eyes were staring deep into his. He put his pistol back into its hiding place. Both of his hands were on either side of my head, pushing against the wall. He was standing over me; I felt small.

"I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, toots."

"I want to know."

He laughed again. "I guess I created a monster." He leaned in close, then his eyes shot open. "You've distracted me!" he spat.

I winced a bit at his reaction. He raced down the corridor, and I chased after him. My heels and skirt could barely keep up. The dress was really too tight to be running in.

"Why are you in a closet?!" I asked as we stepped into the small space and he shut the door behind me.

"I've got some fun planned for that fat bastard," Joker said bluntly. He was back to being focused Joker.

"Mistah J," I said slowly. "You're just gonna' get yourself in more trouble."

"I like trouble," he said darkly and grinned at me. I felt his eyes all over me, and I shivered.

He pulled out a blueprint from his inside coat pocket and flattened it against a wall. I walked up behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder, looking it over once. Still attempting to disregard me, Joker was running his fingers from the entrance of the lounge to where Cobblepot's stage sat.

Cobblepot wasn't a bad businessman. He usually cycled through classier themes and then some more youthful attempts at a club, depending on who was running the joint in his absence. Either way, it brought in business—gave the big wigs a reason to feel important and gave the poorer folk a reason to go out and buy a nice dress once in awhile. Tonight was very strictly shirt-and-tie, and if you weren't dressed up to the nines, you were kicked out with a swift bodyguard's foot. Unfortunately, this was also at Cobblepot's discretion, so a lot of people weren't fitting the mold he had for tonight.

"Why is Cobblepot being so strict tonight?"

"He wants money."

"But he has money."

Mr. J laughed. "Men like him always want more. He's a collector, that includes money."

I just shrugged and turned around to go sit on a box in the corner. I sighed.

Joker didn't turn around. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Don't play me."

"I just want to know what you're doing."

Joker chuckled. "We did work well together, huh?"

I was still sitting on the wooden box when Mr. J walked over to me. He ran his hands up and down my thighs softly and whispered in my ear his plan for a big boom. I missed the close contact, however, I composed myself when he pulled away. "I like it," I said darkly.

"Good!" he shouted and clapped his hands together, turning back to the blueprint as if I didn't exist once again.

.~.-.~.

Jay, Raven and Lark—the Penguin's three henchgirls—and Penguin all stepped out onto the stage, and the large crowd clapped for them. His henchgirls were dressed in saucy butler outfits—black leotards with white collars, white heels and black bows in their updos. Each one linking arms around Cobblepot. He looked so proud of his girls and the turn out for the night. Joker and I were towards the back and he whistled and hollered in their direction along with a few other crude men. I elbowed him in the back and pouted, he just snarled and kept leering at the girls. Figures he would do this to me in public. I had to hook him if I wanted all of his attention, but he was proving much more difficult than the average man—that's why I loved him.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Cobblepot said into a mic, as the clapping died down. "Thank you for coming to the Iceberg Lounge tonight! We hope you enjoy the show!"

Just then the curtains opened and a big, brass band stood behind the four of them ready to play. The crowd clapped again.

"Drinks on me!" Cobblepot shouted, waving his staff in the air.

Servers dispersed throughout the crowd carrying trays with martinis and scotch. Women and men gladly grabbed a drink and began mingling as the brass band started playing some song. They sounded great, and I saw Joker tapping his foot. I giggled.

"Wanna dance?" I asked.

"Later, sweets!" he said. "I've got a meeting to attend!"

"What meeting?"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the crowd. Cobblepot surveyed the crowd some more with pride. He loved to entertain. The classy criminal spotted us moving through the crowd and looked frustrated. He pointed out to the crowd, talking to his girls, then headed in the same direction as us. We were stopped at a door guarded by two of Penguin's men. Mr. J tipped his hat to them and they let him through, watching me closely as I was pulled behind.

The room we entered was dimly lit with spaces to sit but not much else. A group of more of Penguin's men were standing around a throne-like chair, while some men, I assumed for Joker, were standing around a chair across from that. Joker sat down and pulled me onto his lap.

"What are we doin' here, Mistah J?"

"Bargaining," he said with a grin, placing a hand on my back and another on my knees. A few of his men chuckled. Joker kept eyeing one man on Penguin's side, and the man seemed to be nervous about something. The fear in his eye was putting me on edge. _Does Joker have something on him? _I wondered.

Penguin strode in with whatever swag such a fat man could muster with a cane, and sat down in his abnormally large chair, glaring at the two of us. "Well, Joker, I'm sure you're hoping for a fair trade tonight."

"That would be the plan," Joker replied.

"But you don't ever follow plans."

"Look, Ozzy, I just need a few guns for my few men and then I'll be on my way," he said with a laugh. "It's really no big deal."

"I'll be expecting payment," Penguin replied before breathing on his monocle and rubbing it between the fabric of his shirt.

"Of course!" Joker said. "How much do you want?"

"Two-thousand for the guns, and 500 for the ammo." Cobblepot put the monocle back in the groove of his eye and stared at Joker intently.

"C'mon, Penguin! I thought you said we'd get a bargain? I didn't come here to get the same price as a store, you know that."

"For all the trouble you cause me, you're lucky I don't buy off every store and then sell to you for three times as much."

"I was only ever having a little fun..." Joker said, rubbing my back. I placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep my balance as I pushed my skirt down.

"Three-thousand..." Penguin said.

"Alright! Alright!" Joker shouted, annoyed. He looked at me and then to Penguin. "Two-thousand and the girl!" he said, pushing me across to Penguin. Penguin's henchmen grabbed my arms to steady me, eyeing my behind.

"Hey!" I shouted. "No fair!"

Joker didn't care. I felt a pain in my chest. How could he do this to me? How could he sell me off like a cheap piece of meat? I felt a tear, but I fought it back and glared in his direction.

"I won't take your whores as bartering chips, Joker!" Penguin spat back.

_He's probably gay._

He lifted his staff and I was pushed back towards Joker who stood up to catch me. He gave me a smile as I just hung in his arms like a confused rag doll.

I turned to look back at Cobblepot over my shoulders. He looked mad.

"I told you to be on your best behavior, git!"

"Ozzy, cool it," Joker said calmly. He actually seemed serious now. "Fine. I'll give you your 3,000, but don't expect a tip." Joker's henchmen chuckled.

Cobblepot snapped his fingers and one of his men walked over to Joker and held out his hand. Joker let go of me—as I steadied myself to stand on my own— and pulled out a thick wad of cash. My eyes widened. He shoved it in the man's hand and Cobblepot was almost immediately thumbing through it.

"Nice doin' business wit' ya'," Penguin said, finally amused.

Joker gave some signal to one of his men before he turned around. I didn't catch what it was supposed to mean, but I figured it had something to do with his plan. Puddin' pulled me by my wrist again, looking annoyed but at least somewhat pleased he got his guns. His men took the guns and ammo and walked out of the back door of the Iceberg Lounge unseen. Joker pulled me into his body by the waist, once we were back near the dance floor. Most of the men and women were completely wasted by the time the meeting was over. Joker started twirling me around and I began to giggle.

"How about that dance, sweetheart?" Joker asked me.

I couldn't refuse. He took my hand in his and placed his other hand on the small of my back, leading me across the floor in a waltz.

"What are we doing, Puddin'?" I asked after a couple of songs.

"Dancing," he said plainly.

"But what about your plan—the blueprints?"

Joker looked around. "My plans haven't changed. Just be patient."

The song shifted into something Joker noted as being "Pick Up the Pieces." I hadn't heard it before, but then again this wasn't my cup of tea, either. He looked to me and smirked.

"Ready?"

"For?"

"The boom," he whispered—his face just inches from mine—with a dark stare.

"Do it," I dared him.

He grinned darkly and opened his jacket to reveal a string with a ring attached at the end. He pulled on it and center stage exploded in the middle of the song. The brass instruments screeching in loud unison bringing many drunks to their knees. People screamed in terror, running for the entrance, and Cobblepot raced out of a side room as fast as his short legs could carry him to find out what had happened, hobbling all of his morbid weight on his poor cane.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Cobblepot yelled out.

His girls were safe, but a few of his men were dead and, of course, his night. Joker was laughing so hard he could barely stand up. I was clutching onto his body for dear life, afraid of what might happen next now that he properly ruined any chance of another deal with Penguin. That man had power and money.

Cobblepot spotted us and screeched, "GET THAT IDIOT!"

Two men came after us, and we sprinted for a back exit down a corridor. We beat them out the door, but Joker knew we needed a real escape plan. That's when two of his men came dragging that man of Penguin's that Joker had been staring at earlier by the hands. He had scrapes on his knees now from being drug for so long.

"That way!" Joker commanded. "We've got to get out of here before I bother with this fool..."

.~.-.~.

"Look, Jokah! I didn't mean nothing by it! I swear!" The man was pleading for his life now.

We were in an abandoned warehouse now near the Bowery. Joker's henchmen had bound the man's hands in front of him and forced him to his knees.

"You turned your back on me," Joker said. "I'm hurt!" He was up to his usual dramatics again.

"You's was gone! And Penguin was paying more! I got alimony!"

Joker took the hilt of his gun and made contact with the back of the man's head. "You should have been faithful, Henry," Joker said.

Henry moaned and held his head. "I..." He was on the floor bleeding, now. Joker giggled. Once Henry was able to finally say something, he just looked mad.

"You's ain't even big time no more, Jokah!" I was shocked he would even dare to say anything at all. I stood back with Joker's other men, our mouths gaping at Henry.

Joker bent over and leaned into him. "Oh really?" he said with a sarcastic grin.

"You's think all's ya' gotta' do is just run up in here and throw ya' hand around and every schmuck from here to Boston will throw on their fuckin' Yankee Doodle caps and say 'Aye, aye!' But that ain't how it is no more. This is Penguin's game now. You ain't even good enough to not get caught."

The "t" fell off his lips at the same time a shot echoed off the walls of the warehouse. The man dropped to the ground, blood oozing out of his forehead. Joker did it without even any hesitation at all—one of his closest allies.

"I never paid you to talk, neither," Joker said and a small chuckle escaped his mouth, as if by accident.

I looked at Joker, expectantly, but he just yawned. I frowned—I knew what that meant. Mr. J was either bored or actually tired, which meant no room for me.

"Go home, Harley," Puddin' said, kissing my cheek. "I promise I won't leave you waiting so long next time."

"You better cross your heart and hope to die," I said with a wink.

"Honey, I'm practically invincible."

.~.-.~.

When I came home, Jester was in his kennel looking pitiful. He whined when he saw me and the first thing I did was prepare some wet food for the little pup and pet him as he ate—I had finally managed to teach the runt to stop being so food aggressive. I wanted a sweetie pie, not a beast.

"Oh Jester!" I exclaimed, picking the hyena up once he was done eating. He looked at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "You should have been there! My Puddin' danced with me! It was so perfect!"

I hugged Jester tightly and he let out a moan that almost sounded like a cat's purr. I kissed his head over and over until he started to wriggle his way out of my hands. I let him go and he plopped down and started scratching at his ear before looking at me curiously.

"Fine. Find me when you want to cuddle," I said with a grin, waving my hand. I didn't need his affection tonight, and I'm sure he was tired of me, anyway. After a week of being an overprotective mother, free roam of the apartment to tear up something else I owned was probably just what he needed. He deserved it, anyway. He was such a cute pup.

I had managed to get most of my makeup off and change into my pajamas, but I left the lipstick on. I wanted just one thing to remind me of my Puddin'. He left me once again, still with no idea of what he tastes like, but at least this way I was just a bit closer to knowing. I looked to the rose sitting on my vase. Another petal had fallen, but I didn't care. I had finally managed to get his attention for good—or so I thought.


End file.
